Hunter's Smile
by KaioM
Summary: During the Third Shinobi War, many, many people died. Camp Three is just another one of those casualties, but to Amaru—better known as Aru—the destruction of his entire village is hardly unimportant. But Camp Three has secrets—secrets Aru would be better off without. The path to truth is a maze that's layered with lies, and Aru just might be trapped. OC-centric, Anko-centric.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Okay, so this is a fic that I (kind of) adopted from _Ace7655_, who I believe has removed his version. This story shares a title and an opening plot with his story, but names have been changed depending on my nit-picky preferences, and events may happen slightly differently. Please enjoy.

I also don't really know how old anyone is, since Naruto has no year system. So I assume that Anko is about the same age as Kakashi and therefore was alive during the Third Shinobi War.

Chapter warnings: Strong language and semi-graphic violence/gore.

* * *

><p>He stared, but he couldn't really see much.<p>

Reddish brown flecks were scattered across his ripped clothes like dried paint, and his skin was scrapped down to a dirty open wound coated with red. Not that anyone could see him; he was completely enveloped in a tumbling, writhing mass of bloody, rotting—sometimes living—flesh. He struggled against the force pressing against him, pinning him to the floor. There was something heavy on top of him; limp and cold and _so heavy_. Sticky, too, he thought. He could smell smoke, but was it the object or something else?

He pushed at the irritatingly—chokingly—heavy weight, and it groaned loudly in protest. The boy froze, his blank eyes growing even wider.

Flailing his legs and struggling frantically in panic, the boy ignored the dying, breathy gasps of pain echoing in his ears. He wanted—no, he _needed_—to get _out_ of this, _now_.

They were on all sides of him, blocking all exits, and the boy couldn't even _breathe_ anymore—all he saw was red, all red, dead dead dead in the darkness—

His head broke the surface.

He screamed.

Surrounding him was a literal sea of bodies—some still just barely alive and others looking to have died weeks ago—and buildings lit aflame gave off seemingly never ending plumes of thick black smoke.

* * *

><p><strong><em><span>H<span>_**un_**tE**_R_**'s** _s_**MI**_**l**E

[one]

"You know you don't belong."  
>Third Eye Blind, <em>Jumper<em>

* * *

><p>"Camp three has been compromised," Sarutobi Hiruzen, the great and wonderful Third Hokage, announced flatly. "Scavenge all you can from the rubble." There was no mission scroll and no questions. ANBU don't ask questions and they don't get choices.<p>

For ANBU newbie Aikahisakatu, it was a disorienting sort of confusion. Under normal circumstances, you would be handed a mission scroll, given a very brief preface on the assignment, and then you were allowed to either accept or refuse the mission.

Not in ANBU. In Ansatsu Senjutsu Tokushu Butai, the Hokage gave the orders and if you were too stupid of a fuck up to follow them... Well. That was better left unsaid.

The Special Assassination and Tactical Squad didn't take any backtalk. Once you joined ANBU—regardless of if you truly wanted to serve your village or if you, like Aikahisakatu, were drafted—you became nothing more than a kunai for Konoha to wield. Aika—because, naturally, he got saddled with _that_ nickname—had heard there were worse programs that often drafted small children. He didn't like to think about it.

"Go." The Hokage waved an arm, looking so _tired_ in that moment that Aika felt a puddle of pity prickle at the edge of his mind, even if it was _damn painful_ to hold this bowing position for so long.

"Hai, Hokage-sama," the ANBU said in unison. Aika was almost an entire millisecond behind his fellow shinobi in the response, and he winced, hoping it wasn't too noticeable. Then they vanished, and Aika had never been more embarrassed of the tiny shred of nearly unnoticeable smoke that followed his almost seamless shunshin.

"You should probably work on that, Sparrow," Cat noted absently. Everyone in the squad—including Aika—was more than fast enough to simply run out of the office, but since it took a tad too long to sneak out of the village without alarming civilians, Delta Squad tended to use Jutsu. Every member on the squad had practically perfect chakra control, except, of course, Aika, since he had literally joined the semi-secret organization ANBU earlier that day.

Everything he knew had been explained to him this morning when he was assigned to Delta Squad. God, some people.

"Don't bother," Weasel hissed, vindictively giving a tree branch a particularly vicious stomp. Aika wanted to point out that she was going to leave a trail behind if that continued—and since Camp Three was hidden behind an extensive maze of repeated spirals, that normally would be a pretty rookie mistake with horrifying consequences—but then he remembered that their destination, Camp Three, had already been destroyed. "You know he won't ever be as good as Daigo—er—" Weasel stuttered to a stop, then picked up again. "He won't ever be as good as Rabbit."

As Aika understood it, Delta Squad's old member, Rabbit—or Daigo, apparently—had been killed in action. Hence the replacement in the form of Aika's new Sparrow mask.

ANBU weren't supposed to make attachments to each other. The average life span of an ANBU was seven months, depending on the missions they took.

Just his luck, though, since Weasel decided to go against the rules—that stuff existed for a reason, people!—and she seemed to have been in love with the dead Rabbit ANBU. Who was dead. And also was supposed to have a secret identity, like every other ANBU who ever existed. Not that it even _mattered_, since _apparently_ rules don't apply to people as amazing as _Weasel_.

Cat appeared to be the mediator between the entire Delta Squad. Weasel, Fox, Squirrel and Aika were, in her mind, "under her command". Which was true. Cat was team leader.

But she didn't have to be such a mother hen. This was ANBU, and her protective attitude would only hurt her in the end. It'd probably be more effective anyway to cow her squad into submission then try to get Delta to "trust her" or whatever it was she wanted to do.

"Approaching target," Cat warned. Aika didn't really need her heads up. The billowing smoke and smell of blood was enough for him, and probably for the rest of Delta Squad, too.

Fox made a mild sniffing sound of distaste. Aika didn't like Fox—the other ANBU was kind of creepy. Squirrel was okay, but then again, her name was Squirrel, and her bitterness was kind of a turn off.

All this Aika had discovered in a single day. Just another reason why he shouldn't have been forced into ANBU—his specialty was traceless assassination and infiltration. Delta Squad was a first response team, which was basically just a nice way of saying they were combat specialists who didn't quite make the cut, no matter how fast they could run.

And that was just a nice way of saying cannon fodder.

But Delta Squad was still an ANBU squad, and therefore were usually enough to handle most situations. ANBU cannon fodder is a couple large steps above regular cannon fodder.

Camp Three likely wouldn't be an issue, even if the culprits behind the camp's destruction might be lying in wait.

Sliding to a clean stop beside Delta Squad, Aika contemplated how dangerous this might be. There were in the middle of the Third Shinobi war, after all. Maybe Iwa had somehow discovered Camp Three and then destroyed it to attract Konoha's attention? For some kind of trap? After all, Camp Three, much like its crumpled predecessors, was a vital asset to Konoha during war time. It was plausible, Aika decided.

"Whoa," Squirrel whispered, staring at the still burning buildings. As though to accentuate her shock, half of the remains of a small factory collapsed and tumbled to the ground, sending sparks and embers flying into the air. "This was a massacre."

"You're half right." Fox straightened, looking self-righteous. "There were likely explosives hidden throughout all of Camp Three's major sites. Although, the attackers clearly were more emotionally involved than suspected, since most of the people here were killed with what appears to be stab wounds." He paused, and even through the mask, Aika could just _see_ the sick look of wonder on his face.

"We should start searching," Cat said, and for a moment, Aika thought she meant _survivors_, which was probably the most ridiculous thing to suggest considering the carnage. But then Weasel started digging through a nearby pile of what looked to be chunks of disfigured metal, even if most of the contents were stained with a nasty brown substance Aika suspected was dried blood.

"Ne, Sparrow, could you check over there?" Cat motioned to the other half of Camp Three. That was another thing—Cat seemed to be too gentle natured to bring herself to really order her team to do anything. She just asked nicely, and if refused, she would do it herself. She didn't even report you afterwards. Aika thought that was a relatively bad policy, but he nodded and did what he was supposed to regardless.

Aika leaped over the wreckage, flashing to the other side of the Camp in moments. Honestly, he was a little concerned about touching anything**—**Camp Three existed only to make counterfeit or illegal goods without the knowledge of other villages, and whenever Konoha's income was lacking, like in times of war, it was often used to grow illegal drugs and then sell them off to places like Takigakure, or Nadeshiko no Sato. There was no telling what kind of chemicals had been spilled and were just waiting to go off. Aika shivered slightly.

Screw getting drafted into ANBU. Living here must be the worst possible assignment to receive.

Aika stepped lightly, carefully avoiding the bodies. The smell was a bit harder to ignore, but he managed. "Cat!" Aika called. "I don't think there's anything over here! This place is completely destroyed and—"

Aika cut himself off with a yelp, leaping backwards. The body he had just side stepped passed—and accidentally kicked—was _moving_.

Instantly, four flashes of black blinked into existences around him. "There appears to be no problem," Squirrel said, sounding vaguely confused but mostly indifferent.

"Maybe Sparrow turned into a little chicken halfway through his very first ANBU mission, huh?" Weasel sneered, cocking her hip and running a hand through her long brown hair.

"No," Aika hissed, pointing. "Look! It's moving!"

"It looks to be an older man somewhere in his mid-forties," Fox surmised, nodding to himself as though deeming his observations satifactory. "By looking at his injuries, we can assume that he won't survive. In short, this interruption was unnecessary and irrelevant." Aika was starting to suspect that Fox was an Aburame.

"You know what's unnecessary and irrelevant?" Squirrel growled, and Aika could _hear_ the scowl in her words. Every now and then, Squirrel did this**—**even though she was normally frighteningly impassive, sometimes she had explosive outbursts that didn't fade for an entire five minutes at a time. "Those bullshit explanations when everyone else is thinking the exact same thing without your input!"

"Sparrow," Cat said loudly, her mask tilting toward Fox and then to Squirrel. "There are many survivors who likely will not survive the next hour. Please cease your alarm."

"Not like it matters," Weasel grumbled. "I think we're done now anyway."

Aika stared into the dead Camp, eventually locking on a single figure. It looked like a boy, and a small one, too. He was writhing across the ground like a snake, crawling toward them with slow one minded focus. It was hard to believe that he wouldn't make it through the day—whoever this kid was, he was managing to wiggle toward them pretty damn fast.

"Kinda sad," Aika said before he could stop himself. "That's just a little kid."

And then Delta Squad sans Aika froze.

"There are no registered child residents of Camp Three," Fox said, voice bordering on panic. If there was one thing Aika knew Fox hated, it was when the data didn't match up with the truth.

"Hmm. Strange." Aika tilted his head to the side in confusion. "That's definitely a little kid. And he's going so fast, too!"

"I don't see anyone—Sparrow, what're 'ya talking about?" Weasel should really work on her monotonous voice. There was way too much inflection there.

"Right there." Aika pointed at the pitiful little thing in the distance for Delta Squad's benefit. "See?"

Squirrel gasped, and then she shimmered into being beside the little worm. Strange. Aika would have thought that Weasel would be the one with a soft spot for kids, since she seemed the most likely to shed her ANBU character like a coat when it was supposed to be a second skin.

No, it appeared Squirrel was the nurturing type.

"He's alive!" Squirrel cried in awe. "He doesn't even have any serious injuries!"

"The probability of a small, unregistered child to survive an attack of this caliber without outside help is less than four percent," Fox whispered to himself, seemingly trying to use facts to calm himself down. "The probability of a small, unregistered child to survive an attack of this caliber with no injuries—"

"Shut up," Weasel ordered. Fox whimpered to himself. "Cat, what should we do with the child?"

Squirrel reached a tentative hand forward, and, surprisingly, the kid tried to bite her. He missed, but it was the principle of the thing.

The boy had shaggy brown hair, bedraggled clothes, and he looked like an ice cream cone that got dipped in chocolate, only with blood instead. But his gray eyes were practically made out of steel.

"Masks—it's—can't—dead—" It seemed he was also incapable of speaking in full sentences, but Aika thought it was understandable considering the current state of Camp Three. Weasel flinched.

"You have no face," the boy finally managed to rasp. "Just like them, you have no face—" He broke into hysterical and unaesthetically pleasing giggles.

Squirrel reached hesitantly for her mask, but Cat intervened. "Removal of your mask could result in removal of your position, or worse." The other ANBU nodded at her commander.

"I understand, commander," she said. Her hand twitched at her side.

"No face, no face..." the boy cried, still laughing. It was a minutely frightening.

Without even a moment's pause, Aika whipped his mask off and tossed it behind him carelessly. God, if someone had told him that was all it took to get fired... "Hey, kid," Aika said, snapping his fingers to get the boy's attention. "I clearly have a face."

Unfortunately, now the child appeared to be staring into space with no obvious motive. The snapping had no effect.

"We should take him with us," Cat decided. "Hokage-sama might want to see him."

"There are no registered children in Camp Three," Fox argued. "How do you know this isn't a trap?"

"Why do you _think_ the child isn't registered?" Squirrel growled defensively. "The parents wouldn't be allowed to keep him in Camp Three, and you know that no one is allowed to permanently leave!"

"Who attacked Camp Three? Huh? Do you know that?" Fox was sliding into an offensive stance, and Cat sighed. "He could be a living bomb, for all we know!"

"He's just a kid!" Squirrel snarled. Weasel flinched, her hand drifting over her stomach, and Aika almost felt bad.

"You don't _know_ that!" Fox insisted. His hand was lingering over his kunai pouch, and his posture screamed of tension. "He could be any kind of trap! He could be a spy! He could be an advanced clone! He could be—"

"Whatever he is," Cat said, "Hokage-sama will be able to tell."

Aika frowned. "I know Hokage-sama is an amazing shinobi, but—"

"Sparrow, I am the commander of this squad, and I say we take him back to the village. Besides, there isn't anything else to find here."

Weasel and Squirrel slowly nodded, stepping back. With a swift chop to the neck, the boy collapsed to the floor. Cat lifted him against her own body, carefully supporting his neck. The boy's face tumbled into the crook of her neck, and even in unconsciousness, he whimpered.

"We are taking him to Hokage-sama, and that's final," Cat declared, her voice leaking authoritative finality. "Sparrow, replace your mask immediately."

Delta Squad quieted. Aika, looking rather displeased, slid his mask back over his face. Once again, his only defining feature**—**besides height and gender**—**was his fluffy auburn hair. Weasel glanced up from her angst, seemingly pulling herself together. Squirrel tore her eyes away from the wreckage, and Fox stopped twitching his hands like he was trying to strangle someone.

And that was that.

Weirdly, Cat hadn't looked even a little surprised when she saw Aika's face.

* * *

><p>"Hello," a very old looking man said, obviously overdoing the friendly. "What's your name, little boy?"<p>

The small boy had never felt more creeped out in his life. Sure, he didn't really remember much of his life, and he was only seven, but the boy was pretty sure this was a creepy enough experience to override stuff he couldn't even recall.

The old guy seemed to realize his mistake, because he winced. "It wasn't supposed to come out like that," he explained. The seven year old boy nodded slowly and shuffled backwards.

The old man sighed. "I'm so tired, you see," he said apologetically. "I can't recall my manners." He took a deep breath. "My name is Sarutobi Hiruzen, and I am the Third Hokage of Konohagakure." Hiruzen-san gave the boy a warm smile. "Who are you?"

The little boy wiggled uncomfortably. "I'm Amaru," he confided quietly.

Hiruzen-san nodded. "You know, Amaru, I've worked hard to secure the safety of this village."

Amaru's eye widened. "I—I'm not—"

"No, no..." the old man interjected. "You aren't a problem here. My dream is to keep Konoha safe, and you are now in Konoha." There was a small lull, and Amaru nodded slowly. "Do you have a dream, Amaru?"

"I want..." Amaru wrung his hands, and the shyness dripped off him like water. "I want to hurt the people who... Who destroyed my home."

"How are you going to do that?"

"I'll... I'll get real strong, and then... And then I'll go after them."

"Do you think you can do that on your own?" Hiruzen-san asked, and even though he seemed sincere enough, Amaru clenched his fists, his face resembling an angry cat.

Amaru bristled. "I can do it, old man! I will do it!"

Instead of being offended, Hiruzen-san simply smiled. "You'll need to be very strong to do that." Amaru nodded, eyes hard. "How would you like to get strong? How would you like to be a shinobi of Konoha, Amaru-kun?"

Amaru paused, considering, and then said, "Mama used to call me Aru."

* * *

><p>The trap is set. You can't go back now.<p>

What next? What next?

The maze is locked. You can't go back now.

What next?

What next?


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Second chapter! This is still something of a starter, so important characters are introduced and some opening character development is revealed.

Chapter warnings: Birth, semi-dark themes, language.

* * *

><p>A woman, lying flat on her back, bit her lip so hard she drew blood, and her face was pinched in pain. She arched her back, sitting up on her elbows, and looked into the mirror, meeting her own eyes.<p>

"You can do this," she whispered. "You can do this."

She gasped in pain, her arms shaking, and a tight whimper escaped her throat. A loud bang echoed in the room as someone slammed their fist into her shack's front door. "We know you're in there, Saya!" someone shouted, and she flinched.

"Please, please," she murmured. "Please, I still—I still need more _time_." A contraction shook her, and Saya bit down a scream.

"Open the damn door, Saya!" another voice snarled. The banging against the door became more erratic, a loud _boom-boom-boom_ that resounded in her ears. She glanced down toward the bottom edge of the mirror, a small, tired smile starting to build on her face.

"Just a little bit more," she coaxed. "Don't be scared, Amaru." Saya squeezed her eyes shut tightly. "Mama will protect you from him. You don't need to worry... I—I promise." Saya ground her teeth together, holding in a cry. She squinted open a single eye, peering into the mirror.

"Almost there," she hissed.

"You _bitch_!" the first person screamed, their voice echoing throughout her one room hut and blocking out Saya's own screech of pain. "You _filthy_ bitch!"

The door shook.

Saya's chest rose and fell steadily, her breathing heavy, and she collapsed to the floor.

"Saya! Open the door! Saya! _Saya_! Open the door!"

She gave a tired smile to the baby clutched in her arms. "Don't you worry even a little, Aru-chan." She brought his face closer to hers and gently rubbed her nose against his. The baby's mouth wiggled in a semblance of a smile, his dark eyes blinking at her wearily.

"God_damn_ you, Saya! I'll kill you for this!"

Saya smiled secretively at Aru. "Don't you worry," she repeated. "Mama's gonna take care of everything. That mean man outside don't know what's coming to him, does he?"

It was hard to tell in the dim light and even harder to focus with the banging on the door, but Saya thought she might have seen a smile dribble across her baby's face.

The door shook, and Saya glanced at it dismissively. A line of blood surrounded the perimeter of her room, and a seven point star drawn in dried, caking brown blood was scribbled across the wood of her door.

"Okay, Aru-chan," Saya told him, looking into her baby's eyes, "it's time to start."

Amaru looked almost apprehensive, and Saya agreed. Gently placing the baby into a pad of pillows beside her, Saya reached for a corked wine bottle. She smiled reassuringly and when the incoherent shouting died down briefly, Saya told Aru, "You're going to be fine."

Within the wine bottle, a dark mist swirled, and a single reptilian eye inside blinked.

"Goddamn you, Saya," a voice whispered. "You're going to go straight to hell."

* * *

><p><em><strong><span>H<span>**_un_**tE**_R_**'s **_s_**MI**_**l**E

[two]

"This will never end—because I want _more_."  
>Fever Ray, <em>If I Had a Heart<em>

* * *

><p>Yuna-sensei had dull, blank green eyes and scars covered her body. She never smiled, but she never really frowned, either. Yuna-sensei had a blank face and no one ever gave her an apple or a pear or a pencil or <em>anything<em>.

Until someone did.

Aru watched with narrowed eyes as a girl skipped up to Yuna-sensei's desk, her brown—or maybe it was purple? Aru wasn't very good at telling colors apart when they looked similar—ponytail going from side to side with each step.

"Yuna-sensei," she started, almost shyly, "do you want this carrot?"

Aru thought it was kind of weird to offer someone a carrot, but the girl looked pretty much like a scrawny ragamuffin, so that one carrot must mean a lot. He knew _he_ would never give a carrot away to anyone, much less to Yuna-sensei. Aru liked carrots.

Yuna-sensei stared blankly at the girl and then started staring blankly at the carrot. She only ever really stared blankly. That was just her default face. "Thank you, Anko," she finally intoned, voice completely even and even more boring. "I like carrots. I'll use this to make vegan macaroni and cheese."

Anko beamed, clearly not thinking Yuna-sensei's response strange in the least. "You're welcome, Yuna-sensei!" she chirped, then twirled around and bounded back to her seat. As she opened the book to the required page, she hummed to herself and twirled a spiky strand of hair.

Aru raised an eyebrow and thought, _"That girl is never going to make it as a ninja."_

Yuna-sensei raised an eyebrow too—the most interesting facial expression she had ever made in Aru's presence—and said, "Class, turn to page three hundred ten, please."

* * *

><p>Aru flung a kunai into a tree, eyes narrowing. The knife lodged itself inside the wood with a loud, cracking plunk, and his eyes narrowed farther.<p>

This always happened. Always. The knife always got caught halfway through. Why was that? The simple answer: He wasn't throwing them hard enough.

But there had to be _something_ else there, right?

Aru hissed in annoyance, tugging at the kunai. It had a tighter grip than normal—most of them got stuck, but he could still pull them out.

Aru pulled harder.

The kunai didn't move.

Aru gave it another tug, this time with even more force.

The kunai sparkled mockingly in the light and didn't move even a millimeter.

A growl built on the edge of his lips, and the eight year old planted both his feet against the tree trunk. Now Aru was off the floor, and the kunai held the entirety of his weight.

"Come..._on_..." He tensed his legs. "You won't beat me...you stupid kunai...I have thumbs!" Aru kicked, feet scraping against the tree bark, hands wrapped completely around the kunai.

With a quiet _snit_ the kunai broke free.

His grin of victory didn't last long—the force sent him flying to the ground, and his kunai slipped. With a hiss, the metal knife dropped to the dirt beside him. Aru raised a hand, eyes staring blankly at the spill of dark red staining his glove.

Aru let himself drop, head banging against the grassy dirt loudly. He lifted his hand, spinning the kunai by the ring. He watched it turn, going up and down his index finger as it spun.

In one swift move, he caught the knife. Anger bubbled behind his cool mask of indifference and the kunai _flew_.

A loud crack echoed in the empty clearing.

"Hmm..?" Aru lifted his head from the floor to lazily scan the area. "Where did it end up going—"

His eyes widened. "Wha—"

His kunai was embedded halfway into the ground a couple feet away. Behind the knife, a tree had a clear hole sliced straight through it and a large rock was crumpled into chunks.

Aru leapt up, all pretenses of calm gone. "How—what—I need to do that again!"

He scrambled across the clearing, ripping his kunai from the ground. His excitement paused briefly, giving way for thoughtful expression to take over Aru's face. "Wait..." He sighed, staring down at shiny metal of his knife like it held the answers. "How _did_ I do that?"

"Talking to yourself isn't the most healthy activity, you know," a feminine voice informed him, sounding amused. Aru spun around, meeting warm brown eyes. "Unless you were talking to your kunai, although that isn't relatively normal, either."

"You're carrot girl," Aru determined finally, after a moment of silence. The girl frowned, but it had a strange effect when she was hanging upside down from a tree branch. "Anko?"

"Humph," she huffed, turning her head to the side and making another face. "Just because you're jealous of the carrot I gave to Yuna-sensei doesn't mean you need to be so rude."

"Wait..." Aru paused, head tilting sideways. It wasn't confusion—more interest, a vague curiosity he decided to pursue. "You think I'm jealous of the _carrot_, not Yuna-sensei?"

Anko's face betrayed nothing but innocent confusion. "Why would you be jealous of Yuna-sensei?"

Aru's frown deepened, and he thought, _"This girl is definitely _never _going to be a ninja."_ He almost scoffed, turning away._ "She is useless to me."_

"No reason," Aru said shortly. "You can go, now."

"I could also stop wearing deodorant or start eating raw meat." Anko shrugged—everything looked strange when you did it upside down, Aru realized—and then reached a hand up, lifting herself onto the branch. She jumped down, landing softly on her toes in front of him. "Or you could show me what you did to that kunai."

She leaned forward slightly, bouncing on the balls of her feet, and a necklace made of twine slipped out of her dark brown tee-shirt, revealing a single ryo coin hanging from a metal loop slid onto her makeshift chain. Glancing down at it, she dropped the coin back under her shirt.

"Well?" Anko asked loudly. The simple open-toed sandals she wore wiggled in the dirt as she tapped a foot.

"What I did to the kunai?" Aru repeated. "When?"

"Just now!" Anko motioned to the tree and destroyed rock. Or were they rocks now? When a rock gets smashed like that, does it just become multiple rocks, or just pieces of a single rock? Anyone else who came through here would probably assume the former. "Your kunai sliced _right_ through that tree and then went _right_ through that rock and _smashed_ it in a _hundred_ pieces!"

Aru pointed a finger at himself. "My kunai?"

"Yeah!"

A grin almost came to his face, and Aru had to hold back semi-evil laughter. A nearly eager look split his eyes. "Did you see what I did?" he demanded. "Did you see? What did I do?"

"Wha—I dunno!" Anko defended, backing away a step. "You were spinning it, and then you threw it and—I wanna throw my kunai like that!"

Aru scowled. "I was spinning it and then I threw it? Thanks for the clarification. I wasn't sure about that."

"Shuddap!" Anko uncrossed her arms and walked to the kunai, picking it up slowly like she thought it would explode. The girl glanced up at Aru. "You're the weird one! How can you not _know_ what you did?" She paused, eyes narrowing. "Maybe it wasn't you, but the kunai..."

Panic. It moved in a rush, and Aru's fingers twitched against the horrifyingly helpless feeling.

Power. Did the kunai have power?

Anko was holding it.

Did the kunai have power?

"That's my kunai," Aru said.

Anko glanced up at him. "So?"

"You can't have it," Aru added helpfully for her benefit.

"But I want it."

"That's really too bad."

"I only have a couple kunai and they're all rusty."

"I only have a couple kunai and they're all rusty, too, including that one." Actually, they weren't, but that was mostly because of the hours and hours—and hours—of work Aru spent trying to keep them perfect over the years. That one particular kunai, though—Aru mentally renamed it The Power Kunai—was one of his more disgusting weapons.

Anko blinked. "This is my kunai now," she adamantly insisted, tightening her grip on the knife.

"No, it's not."

"I think it is."

"Returning my knife would be in your best interest."

Anko twirled in place, like she was planning to run, before sighing and turning back. "Here," she muttered, limply holding out her hand. Aru took the kunai, then frowned. Was it just him, or had The Power Kunai gotten a little bit more scraped up all of a sudden...?

"This is the wrong kunai," Aru said flatly. He glanced up, and watched a brown—or purple, depending—ponytail disappear into the trees of academy training ground six.

"This is my kunai now!" Anko's voice chortled loudly, echoing back to him.

The eight year old stared blankly at the space she'd been occupying until a couple seconds ago. His hand clenched around Anko's kunai, but his face didn't change from casual indifference. Aru never really showed much emotion. He held things in and he kept things locked up and he expected everything to stay hidden away forever.

_Mama—my village—The Power Kunai—I won't—_

Blink.

Breathe.

Blink.

Aru made a choked, whimpering screaming sound, and his mind was blocked of all rational thought long enough for him to launch Anko's kunai in her general direction. A hiss echoed in his ears, and then Anko yelped.

His eyes widened in sudden clarity, and Aru flinched.

_The screams were the worst._

"Anko? Are you okay? Anko?" Aru shoved past a low hanging tree branch. "Anko?" He stumbled into a small clearing, brushing past a bush. Anko was on the ground, sitting up and staring at a single kunai lodged into the dirt. Her kunai. She was clutching The Power Kunai in her hand. Wordlessly, she pointed. Aru followed the line of sight.

Three trees had clean cut holes straight through them—the kunai had flown through all resistance and actually managed to get close enough to almost hit Anko. She looked up at him, and he met her eyes. "Whoa," Anko breathed, her eyes wide with awe. "I guess it wasn't the kunai after all, huh?"

For a brief moment, the kunai in the dirt seemed to be glowing. Then Anko held out The Power Kunai—not so much _anymore_, considering, Aru thought glumly—and said, "Hey, do you want your kunai back?"

* * *

><p>"Ne, Aru," Anko started, poking at his arm. He only turned his head, blinking one eye at her from the grass. Other academy children giggled and played tag and ate lunch. Aru sometimes ate lunch.<p>

Mostly, he slept.

"What d'ya want?" Aru murmured to her sleepily, rolling on his side so he could blink drowsily in her direction.

"Want a carrot?" she responded, holding one out to him.

Aru sat up on his elbows, his steel gray eyes scrutinizing her. Finally, he said, "I like carrots."

Anko grinned. "Who doesn't?" Aru took the vegetable from her hand.

Gnawing on it thoughtfully, he rebuked, "A lot of people don't like carrots, but I don't know anyone who _dislikes_ carrots." Anko looked almost confused, so he added, "Carrots are more of a neutral food."

Anko nodded, chewing on her own carrot. "I guess so," she admitted. "No one really thinks about carrots all that much, do they? Or, at least, not until someone asks them, or the carrot goes bad."

"I guess so," Aru agreed, and then he shoved more raw carrot in his mouth and bit it off loudly. Anko followed suit.

In the teacher's break room, Yuna-sensei spooned a mouthful of vegan macaroni and cheese into her mouth, eyes as dimly lit as ever.

* * *

><p>Somewhere, ANBU Squad Delta mourned the loss of a member, and Aika tossed a painted squirrel mask into the heart of a fire.<p>

"I'll miss her," Cat told them, voice soft. "She didn't deserve it."

Fox stared into the fire, completely silent for once. "At least she didn't end up like Rabbit," Weasel finally whispered, and behind her mask, only one tear managed to run down her cheek. "At least she isn't dead."

Aika glared up at her and stood. "No," he hissed, fists clenched, "she didn't end up like Rabbit." Weasel glanced up at him, and Aika spat, "She ended up worse."


End file.
